Thursday remains one of the more interesting and musically progressive bands to take influence from the ethereally defined post-hardcore/emo scene. With the term `emo' having already been reconstituted/misappropriated for a generation of more commercially pliable bands, and now well on its way to the grave, an ironic signifier seldom employed without derision or humour, Thursday releases `No Devolucion,' - No Returns, another intentionally challenging album that revels in yet another shift in the bands sound, retaining the esoterically dense arrangements the band has become known for, while attempting to add eerily sparse and atmospheric moments into the mix.
Looking back over the past few Thursday releases, No Devolucion seems to take equal cues from A City by the Light Divided and Common Existence. Whereas `A City by the Light...,' has come to be considered a somewhat interesting failure, notably due to its lumpy progression and faltering energy, No Devolucion stretches the atmospherics of that album to logical extremes, while retaining the more abrasive qualities of Common Existence.
This sounds like a difficult task, and it is; it would be trite to suggest that No Devolucion is Thursdays `best album in X years,' or that it doesn't have any low points - `A Darker Forest,' is a lyrically amusing and subversive take on an old trope, but musically it meanders a little too much for its own good. Similarly, `A Gun in the First Act,' oscillates between thunderous drumming and comically sleepy accordion/harmonica sections.
Lyrically, No Devolucion moves away from the real-world backdrops and subjects of previous albums, and strays into some fairly strange existential areas about the meanings and implications of devotion. Even on seemingly more direct songs, such as `Empty Glass,' the listener has to question the motivations of the narrator - who initially seems to be recounting the end of his marriage, only for it to become clear that his retelling of the tale drastically changes each time. There are still moments, however, where Rickley's lyrics descend into cringe-worthy histrionics; the old school belter `Turnpike Divides,' comes to a crawl with the overwrought protestation that, `buildings seem to rise, like coffins full of stars.'
Still, songs like `Turnpike...,' and `Sparks Against the Sun,' with its overlapping keyboards and layered guitars provide valuable anthemic moments that counteract the darker moments on the album, such as the synth-heavy, `No Answers,' in which a pained Rickley asks a series of obtuse questions that, yep, seemingly can't be answered.
The drastic departure in recording style - a swift seven day session with producer David Fridmann in which band members were allowed more freedom to work on their own sections individually than the band had practiced previously has allowed previously untapped elements of the Thursday sound to come to the fore, most noticeably Tim Payne's brooding basslines on, `Milimeter,' and Tucker Rule's fantastic drumming, which propels much of the album, particularly, `Past and Future Ruins.'
So, with as little hyperbole as possible; consistent, simultaneously atmospheric and thunderous in nature, this is an impressive effort that travels in some unexpected directions, making it all the more surprising that the whole experience is such a cohesive affair.